


Something in the Water

by leontina (Leontina)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flirting, Healing, Italy, M/M, Painter Harry, References to Depression, Road Trips, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-18 00:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leontina/pseuds/leontina
Summary: Ginny and Pansy force a lonely Harry to join them on their road trip through Italy. They fail to mention that Draco will be joining them too





	Something in the Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/gifts).



> "Note for Ao3: Written for the Trope ""Vacation/Travel"" for the 2019 H/D Tropes Exchange Fest"
> 
> I really hope you like this, Icarus! I love road trip fics so I was thrilled to see your sign up, and I had to choose Italy as I love the country so much

**xXx**

The heavy bass of the Weird Sisters pounded through the room, making Harry’s skin vibrate with the force of it. He allowed the music to flow through him, splashing some red paint onto the canvas, then some black. His mind was clear, blissfully free of thought, and he painted whatever colour felt right in the moment.

Harry was so entranced with his painting, that when a voice called his name, he jumped so violently that he spilled the tin of blue paint across his carpet. He swore, hastily picking up the tin and casting a cleaning charm, before turning around to face his visitor. 

Ginny stood in the doorway looking rather amused, and Harry shot her a sheepish grin as he put the Weird Sisters on pause. 

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Kreacher is supposed to tell me when I have visitors, but he never does.”

“I don’t think Kreacher considers me a visitor, but more of a pest in his house.” Ginny smiled crookedly. “How long have you been up here? Have you eaten?”

Harry glanced at the watch on his wrist, scrubbing the paint off the face so he could read the time. It was four in the afternoon, and last time Harry had checked it had been early morning. 

“Er…”

“I thought as much,” Ginny said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Harry followed Ginny out of the attic and down two flights of stairs to the kitchen. He washed his hands and face in the sink while Ginny clattered about in the pantry, and by the time he sat down, a plate filled with peanut butter and jam sandwiches were waiting. 

“You really need to get some real good in the house,” Ginny muttered, but she took a large bite of a sandwich anyway. “Do you want me to go to the supermarket for you?”

Harry shook his head, feeling his cheeks flush at her scrutinising look. “No, I can go if I want to. It’s just...half the week, Ron and Lavender come over with dinners they’ve made, and the rest of the time, Hermione and Millicent take me out to dinner. I’ve not needed to go shopping, that’s all.”

“And if they don’t come round?”

“Then I eat PB and J sandwiches,” Harry said, grinning weakly. It soon fell from his face at Ginny’s disapproving look, which she’d clearly learned from her mother. “You don’t need to worry about me, Gin, I’m doing fine, honestly. Or, I’m doing better, at least. Marigold is really pleased with how I’m progressing.”

Ginny looked moderately happier at the mention of Harry’s therapist. “Good. And you know I don’t mean to nag you, Harry; Morgana forbid I turn into my mum. I just worry about you. Actually, that was part of the reason I popped round here.”

Harry frowned, trying to think if he’d done anything recently to make his friends concerned about him, but his mind was coming up blank. 

“Pansy and I are planning a holiday, and we’d like to invite you along. I think it would be good for you to get out of the house and enjoy some sun and relaxation.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but no thank you.”

“I haven’t even told you where we’re going,” Ginny said with a frown. 

“You don’t need to. I’m not going to intrude on your holiday with your girlfriend and be your tag-along third wheel. I’m sure you’d enjoy a holiday a lot more if you didn’t have to worry about your sad friend.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “ _Actually_ , it’s a group holiday, not a couple’s one. You’re not the first person we’ve asked, so you don’t have to worry about feeling like a third wheel. We’re going to tour Italy, starting in the south and travelling up north.”

“I don’t know-” Harry began, but Ginny cut him off before he could finish. 

“I think you’d love Italy, Harry! The weather’s gorgeous, and there’s so much story and culture there, especially in artwork. You could even consider it a therapy trip, if you spend most of your time looking at art.”

Ginny looked fierce, but Harry could see the concern and plea in her eyes. Along with Ron and Hermione, she’d helped him through the worst of his depression, and Harry still felt guilty about the state his friends had had to see him in. 

“I don’t suppose I actually have a say in the matter, do I?” Harry said, giving Ginny a wry smile. 

“Well, we’ll both _pretend_ you do.” Ginny smirked, a clear sign she’d been spending too much time with Slytherins. 

It looked like Harry was going to Italy.

**xXx**

Harry got a few strange looks as he strolled through the Ministry of Magic wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a Weird Sisters t-shirt, especially considering the streets outside were soaked with rain.

Ginny had promised that Italy would be sunny and hot, and said he needed to dress for Italy rather than Britain. Still, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious until he finally arrived at the International Portkey Department and found himself amongst similarly clad holidaymakers. 

He glanced around the room, looking for the familiar red flash of Ginny’s hair but instead found a white-blond head that could only belong to Draco Malfoy. Draco had spotted him, too, and was already heading over. He was wearing Bermuda shorts, a short-sleeved shirt, and a Panama hat, as if he’d based his outfit of a Muggle movie from the 80s. 

“You’ve been dragged on Pansy and Ginevra’s holiday, too, I gather?” Draco said as way of greeting. 

Harry nodded. “They wouldn’t take no for an answer. And you know she hates being called Ginerva, don’t you?”

“Oh, I know,” Draco smirked. 

Harry rolled his eyes, but it was more out of habit than genuine annoyance. Draco worked as a financial advisor, and as Harry had a lifetime ban from Gringotts, he had to use Draco’s services whenever he wanted access to his funds. As a result, he’d gotten to know Draco a lot better over the last four years, and their relationship had gone from disgruntled mutual dislike to client and advisor who shared more snark than was deemed professional. 

“So do you know who else is joining us?”

Draco shook his head. “No, Pansy just said there was a group of us going and that I wouldn’t be a third wheel.”

“Funny; Ginny said the same thing to me,” Harry said, quirking a brow. 

He shared a confused glance with Draco, and they both turned in perfect synchronisation when they heard Ginny and Pansy approach. 

“Hello, darling,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes at Pansy. “I hope the rest of our party aren’t going to be too much longer. I do hope to get to Italy some time today.”

Pansy smiled wickedly. “Everyone’s here now, _darling_. Oh, were you under the impression they’d be more of us? Four people still make up a group, you know. I thought you got an Outstanding in your Arithmancy NEWT?”

“Don’t look so sour, you two,” Ginny cried gleefully, throwing her arms around both of their shoulders. Draco quickly shrugged her off, but Ginny wasn’t deterred. “We’re going to have a wonderful time, and you’re going to thank Pansy and I for dragging you out from your sad little lives.”

Two years dating, and Pansy was really rubbing off on Ginny. 

“Besides,” Ginny added quietly as Pansy and Draco walked away to collect their Portkey. “I’m pretty sure Draco has a crush on you, so you can thank me later.”

**xXx**

The first thing Harry noticed after the sensation of the Portkey ended, was that it was hot. So hot, in fact, that Harry wished he’d worn a ridiculous hat like Draco’s to stop the top of his head burning.

The sun beat down on his exposed skin, and the warmth that radiated across his arms was surprisingly pleasant. Harry had never been abroad before, and as he’d spent a good portion of his life in the Scottish Highlands, hot weather was something of a commodity to him. 

“I have…so many regrets,” Draco said beside him, though he seemed to be speaking in a general sense rather than to Harry directly. 

Harry followed Draco’s gaze, and found himself looking at a lot filled with lines and lines of Muggle campervans and caravans. Draco looked horrified, and a little bit scared, too. 

“What are those?” he exclaimed. “They look like metal torture boxes.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and Ginny and Pansy both laughed loudly. 

“They aren’t usually used for torture, but I can’t say a campervan by itself won’t be torture for you, Draconis,” Ginny said, clapping Draco on the shoulder. 

“That isn’t even my name, _Ginevra_ ,” Draco snarled. “And I do hope you aren’t implying we’ll be travelling in that _thing_. It looks like it will fall apart at any second.” 

“They’re perfectly safe,” Pansy said. “The Muggles use them all the time, and travelling like Muggles is en vogue right now.”

Draco pulled a face, and turned to Harry. “Are you okay with this?”

Personally, Harry had no problem with campervans. He’d certainly slept in worse places over the course of his life. 

“They’re not so bad.” Harry shrugged, and shot Draco a grin, knowing one thing Draco wouldn’t be aware of yet. “We’ll always have a place to eat and sleep, at least.”

Draco’s eyes widened comically. “ _Sleep_? Did you just say we’ll sleep in it? Potter! Potter!””

Harry ignored him in favour of walking towards the lot with a sniggering Ginny and Pansy. 

The campervans were magically altered inside to make them wider than the usual Muggle ones, and there was no steering wheel or pedals--apparently they moved with magic rather than manual power. 

Inside was a table and tiny kitchen, with some comfortable looking chairs to eat and lounge in. The bathroom was, thankfully, the most magically altered in size, and was hidden behind a door leading to the back of the campervan, which was taken up entirely by a double bed. 

Harry’s glee at taunting Draco vanished as he took in the sight of the one bed. The dining area looked too small to convert into another bed, and after spending a good few months living in one, Harry would scream if it turned out he and Draco would have to sleep in a tent outside. 

“Looks cosy,” Draco said, pressing up behind Harry and leaning over his shoulder. “Is this bed purely for sleeping, or are you planning on us having an orgy every night?”

Pansy cackled loudly. “Some orgy, with two lesbians and a gay man! Though you’d enjoy it either way, wouldn’t you Harry?”

“What? No!” Harry protested quickly. 

Draco leaned in closer to Harry, Draco’s chest pressing against his back, and Harry had to admit in that moment they’d be one part of an orgy involving Draco that he’d enjoy. 

“Just ignore Pansy, Potter,” Draco said lowly, his hot breath tickling Harry’s ear. “If she’s not thinking about fashion or sex then she’s not functioning. Now, where _are_ me and Potter sleeping?”

“Up here,” Ginny called, and they turned to see her seat up on a raised compartment above the area a steering wheel should be. “There’s a lovely double bed, just for the two of you.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed hotly. He caught Draco’s eye, and they both looked away hastily. 

It was impossible to deny that Draco was attractive, with his tall, lean form, and his icy hair and eyes, but the bloke was still a prat and sharing a bed with a prat overruled the idea of sharing a bed with an attractive man. 

“Couldn’t I just take the bed, and we make Potter sleep on the roof?” Draco suggested. 

“When I was a kid, my aunt and uncle never let me sleep inside the campervan when we went on holiday either,” Harry said. “They just put me in a little tent outside.”

Draco huffed. “Merlin, your sad childhood makes it so hard to make fun of you properly. Fine, we’ll just share the damn bed.”

Ginny and Pansy exchanged a look that Harry couldn’t quite decipher, but he was pleased his guilt-tripping had worked, because he wouldn’t have put it past Draco to actually try and make him sleep on the roof. 

Harry would definitely be keeping an eye on Ginny and Pansy, though; they certainly seemed to have something up their sleeves.

**xXx**

When it came to art, Harry’s sole skill laid in abstract art. He could splash colours onto canvas in varying patterns layers, and it would look good, but any attempt he made at painting anything realistic tended to look horrific.

Though his own art skills were incredibly limited, Harry had come to have a deep appreciation for art of all kinds, and Lecce was an entire city of art. 

It was their first stop on their tour of Italy, and Harry had immediately fallen in love with the intricately designed buildings. Everywhere he looked, he saw beauty. 

“You look like a child seeing Honeydukes for the first time,” Draco commented, his words only partially mocking. 

The two of them had been left alone after Ginny and Pansy took off together without much warning. Draco had kindly followed Harry without a word down many streets and alleys, and waited patiently while Harry snapped photos on his camera. 

“I’ve never seen anywhere so beautiful!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m sure you’ve travelled all over the world and seen all the art and culture there is to offer, but I’ve never been out of Britain before.”

Draco inclined his head and smirked. “I can’t imagine being as rich as you, yet not living like it. Though the Potters are new money, so perhaps you’d never have travelled as often as I have.”

They stopped for coffee, or rather Draco did and Harry stopped with him because it was only fair, and took a seat on delicate metal chairs in an outside courtyard. 

“So where have you been around the world?” Harry asked after deflecting Draco’s attempt to get him to order himself a latte--Hermione had forewarned Harry that ordering a latte would only get him milk, rather than the coffee the British were used to. 

“France, Portugal, Spain, Greece, Sweden, Norway, Russia, Morocco, Egypt, Hong Kong, Singapore, Japan, and Australia,” Draco recited. “Most of which were for Father’s business, but Mother and I were able to explore while Father sat in meetings. I’ve not been to Italy before. Work keeps me busy, and I’ve not been abroad for years. Admittedly, I’m only here now because Pansy insisted I needed a break and forced me to come. She’s quite the spitfire.”

Harry chuckled. “Her and Ginny both. I don’t think anyone stands a chance against either of them, and less so when they’re together.”

They paused while their coffees and cakes arrived. Harry was--although he’d never admit it--delighted that he and Draco both had a sweet tooth. Ginny was a staunch athlete and shunned all forms of unnecessary sugar. 

“Do you still paint?” Draco asked. He idly licked crumbs off his fingers, and Harry found himself transfixed watching him. 

“Uh, yes. Yes, I still paint,” Harry said quickly when Draco gave him a pointed look after his silence began to feel unnatural. “I started it because my therapist suggested it, and it helped me more than I ever imagined it could. I’m not a great artist, by any stretch of the imagination, but I like to think I’m at least a little bit good at what I do.”

“I’m sure you’re more than a little bit good,” Draco said. “You have an annoying habit of being good at most things, excluding potions. And not getting yourself banned from banks, although I do appreciate your resulting custom.”

“Well, you’re certainly easier to talk to than the goblins; at least I know when you’re insulted me.”

Draco smiled wickedly, flashing his perfectly white, and oddly sharp, canines. “I know for a fact that isn’t true. I truly do enjoy insulting you, Potter.”

“Yet we’re enjoying a perfectly civil coffee together,” Harry pointed out, raising a brow. 

“Oh, don’t take my insults to mean I dislike you,” Draco said, still smiling. “Since leaving school you’ve become far less irritating, and you’re tolerable on most days, but there is something I like about seeing your eyes flash with anger.” 

“You’re a strange bloke, Draco,” Harry said, but there was no malice to his voice. He was over petty schoolboy rivalries now, and Draco’s attitude was more amusing than it was infuriating. 

“Likewise, Potter,” Draco said, raising his cup in salute. Harry rolled his eyes, but smiled and mimicked the movement…

And tried not to think too hard about the fact his stomach fluttered every time he saw Draco smile.

**xXx**

One of Harry’s favourite things was the smell of good cooking. It reminded him of returning to Hogwarts for the great feast, and of the homely roast dinners that Mrs Weasley cooked every Sunday which reminded him that he was a Weasley, not in name but in heart.

When he’d left the campervan for a walk, Pansy had just been starting on dinner. Now he’d returned, and it was to the tangy smell of burned food and an odd mix of spices which really didn’t blend well together. 

Draco was sat reading on a plastic chair outside of the campervan, and he looked rather disgruntled. He looked up as Harry approached, jerked his head towards the campervan, and rolled his eyes. 

“Pansy’s a lousy cook,” he mouthed, and Harry grinned. “Pansy, darling, I forgot to say but I’m taking Harry out for dinner tonight. He tragically told me he’s never tried caviar, so I had to insist I treated him to some.”

“Fuck you too, Draco,” Pansy called back mildly. “Ginny and I will just have sex on your bed while you’re gone.”

“Please do, but take the food off the heat before you do, for Ginevra’s sake. Well, Harry, shall we?” 

Draco smiled, hooked his arm through Harry’s, and Apparated them to a side-street they’d passed in Lecce earlier that day. 

“I’m not eating caviar,” Harry said at once. “Fish eggs and snails are things I’ll never eat, no matter how much rich people pretend to like them.” 

“Don’t fret, Potter, I’d never take you to the kind of restaurant where you’d embarrass me so easily. That being said, I couldn’t stand by and allow you to eat Pansy’s cooking. She’s absolutely dreadful, the poor thing. She insists on trying things without house-elves, but the truth is she should just leave those jobs to the ones who are supposed to do them.” 

Harry shrugged. “Nothing wrong with having household skills. Were your parents prepared after I lost them Dobby, or did they have a small army of house-elves ready to take his place?”

Draco raised his brows, as though the answer was clearly the latter. 

“Now,” Draco said, easily changing the subject. “Italy is renowned for its food and wine, and I will not eat at a second-rate restaurant. More importantly, we need to find somewhere that does good wine along the food, because the wine can make or break a meal. I don’t suppose you know anything about pairing food and wine, do you?”

Harry shook his head, and walked beside Draco as he was told the many suitable pairings for certain kinds of wine, and foods that should never be mixed with certain types of wine, under any circumstance. 

Personally, Harry thought it all sounded a bit wishy-washy, after all, wine was alcohol, and alcohol was just there to give people a bit of a buzz. If Harry wanted to mix fish with red wine instead of white, then he damn well would. 

Finally, Draco selected a restaurant, a pretty orange building decorated in vibrant green vines, and which smelled so tantalising that Harry’s mouth was watering as soon as he stepped through the door. 

Draco ordered for the two of them--he was apparently fluent in Italian, as well as French and Russian--and selected a creamy salmon pasta dish alongside some Pinot Grigio.

There was Harry’s first lesson in ordering. Rather than simply choosing a colour and then selecting the cheapest wine from that list, you were supposed to select a wine based on whether you wanted something with more or less tannins, flavour, depth...Harry would be lying if he said it hadn’t gone over his head.

Still, when he tasted the crisp, light wine--which held hints of peach, after Draco pressed him on the flavour profile--he had to admit that it tasted amazing alongside the creamy pasta dish. They complemented each other perfectly.

“I thought your wine bit was just pure snobbery, but you’re actually onto something,” Harry said. “I mean, it’s still snobby, but it’s actually meaningful.”

“I’ll have to take you to the Malfoy vineyard in France sometime, and show you the best wine in the world. Italian wines are impressive, yes, but they’re nothing compared to the French.”

Harry smiled despite himself. “I can’t be irritating you too much, then, if you’re already inviting me on another holiday with you.”

Draco’s cheeks stained pink, but otherwise he kept his calm and cool demeanour. “Or maybe I just want to see what you’re like drunk. Pansy and I have a bet; she thinks you’re a slutty drunk, but I know you’re an emotional one. Ginevra tells us you’re both, but we know she’s trying to appease us.”

Harry chose not to admit that Ginny was telling the truth. 

“And what kind of drunk are you?”

“Please! Malfoys don’t get drunk. As soon as I was thirteen, my father had me drinking good wine and good whiskey, and taught me how to drink it like a gentleman.”

“So you’ve never found yourself in a bar, pouring shots of brightly coloured alcopops down your throat?” Harry asked with a grin. 

“Talking from experience there, Potter?” Draco grinned wickedly back. “And no, I scarcely have time to relax after work, less make a fool out of myself.”

“I was a bit of a wild child right after I left school, but I swapped my drinking for painting. It’s a much healthier form of therapy,” Harry said. “I could probably handle drinking wine in a snobby way like you, though.” He grinned, to show Draco he was joking, and the conversation moved on to their very different upbringings.

Talking with Draco was surprisingly easy, even without using Harry’s finances as a buffer. The wine was leaving him with a pleasant buzz, and Harry found himself leaning closer to Draco across the table, hanging on his every word. 

And when they fingers brushed as they both reached for the bill, neither of them mentioned it, but Harry could feel Draco’s touch on him deep into the night.

**xXx**

The next day, the four of them drove their campervan to Bari, a pretty city by the Adriatic Sea. Pansy and Ginny led them to a beach situated between two small cliffs, with clear blue water sparkling enticingly at the end.

The sun was beating down hard, so dazzlingly bright that Harry had to charm his glasses into sun protectors. The walk to the beach already had him sweating, and the idea of cooling down in the beautiful waters was too good an opportunity to pass up. 

Draco, evidently, had the same idea as Harry, and peeled off his shirt, revealing a lean, firm torso. Harry’s gaze fell on the pale strip of hair under Draco’s belly-button that travelled down beneath the waistband of his swimming trunks. Harry swallowed heavily and tore his gaze away. 

Draco caught his eyes and gave him a knowing smirk, and Harry felt his face flush. 

He took off his own t-shirt, hiding in the soft fabric as long as he could without seeming weird, and let it flutter down to their picnic blanket without a care for the sand that could blown into it. 

“Fancy a dip?” Harry asked, grinning. 

“Among other things,” Draco responded, his smirk growing. 

“Darlings, please take your poor attempts at flirting to the sea,” Pansy said, fanning herself with a Spanish fan. 

Harry was pleased to see Draco blush in response to Pansy’s words, too. 

They made their way down the beach, and stepped gingerly into the sea. Despite the warmth of the sun, the sea still had a chilly bite to it, and Harry shivered as he slowly immersed himself in the water. 

Once he was deep enough, Harry shifted his weight until he was floating on his back, hands making small circles in the sea. He’d never learned how to swim, but he was confident he’d at least be able to stop himself sinking under the waves. 

Draco floated up beside him, like Harry on his back. He had a silver hip flask in his hand, and he offered it to Harry. 

Harry felt his eyes widen. “Is there alcohol in that?!”

“What else would I put in a hip flask? Milk?” Draco raised an elegant brow. “Relax, Potter, it’s only a little bit of whiskey; barely enough to get even partially drunk on. Just take a sip.”

Harry snatched the flask from Draco’s hands, took a sip, as directed, and promptly spluttered as his mouth and throat burned. His coughing disrupted his balance and his head dipped under the sea, salty water filling his open mouth and causing him to splutter more as he resurfaced. He felt very much like a drowned rat in that moment, with his hair sticking to his face. 

Draco laughed loudly, managing to stay neatly afloat throughout. “It’s almost tragic that nobody taught you how to handle your whiskey. I imagine it doesn’t taste so nice with sea water mixed in.”

“Fuck off,” Harry muttered without malice. He coughed again and groaned, before casting a stealthily performed drying spell on his glasses. 

“I would fuck off,” Draco retorted mildly. “But I’m afraid you might drown if you’re left alone.”

Harry shot Draco a grin. “Nice to know you’d save my life I started to drown.”

“Only so I wouldn’t have to be alone with Pansy and Ginevra; can you imagine _that_ torture?” 

As much as Harry loved Ginny, even he wouldn’t want to be left alone with just the two of them. Pansy, he imagined, would treat Harry as some kind of dress-up doll. 

“Good thing we have each other then, isn’t it?”

Draco inclined his head and raised his hip flask. “To being the sad friends who need lesbian babysitters.”

Harry raised an invisible glass. “Cheers.”

**xXx**

The Italian countryside was a sight to behold. Emerald vineyards and orange towns nestled amongst the green, rolling hills, the setting sun casting an orange glow across at all.

Harry wished he could draw landscapes, but he didn’t need to be a talented artist to capture the beauty in his own way. He sat on his bed in the campervan, sketchpad and paints out in front of him as he used his fingers to swipe colours across the page. It wasn’t the scene before him, but he was capturing the essence of Italy, and more importantly, the sense of peace he got when looking at it. 

He brushed his hair out of his eyes, no doubt leaving a streak of green paint on his skin. Harry always felt most refreshed after painting when he was covered in almost as much colour as his canvases were. 

“Budge up,” Draco’s voice came from behind him. “Ginevra and Pansy are canoodling and I can’t face that on my own.”

Harry shook his head in amusement, and moved over to give Draco enough room to climb up onto their bed. Thankfully, magic made the bed much roomier than it was ever designed to be by Muggles, and sharing it hadn’t been as horrific as both of them had feared. 

“Canoodling, hmm?” Harry grinned. “How very dare they.”

“Tell me about it,” Draco said, glowering. “What are you doing? Did you know you have paint on your face? Here, let me-”

Draco brushed his thumb over Harry’s forehead, and Harry froze at the soft touch. Draco, seemingly realised what he was doing in that moment, too, because he also froze, leaving them mere inches apart. 

“There, much better,” Draco stammered, snapping himself out of his stupor and removing his thumb. “Thank goodness I’m here, or you’d look a mess. Then again, what’s new?”

He smirked, but Harry could tell that both that and the insult had been forced. 

“Thanks for being such a hero,” Harry said dryly, but it was also forced. He could still feel Draco’s touch on his skin. “I’ll clean the paint off our bed before tonight, don’t worry.”

Draco made a noise of agreement, and gestured towards Harry’s sketchpad. “Can I look?”

Harry hesitated, not usually one to share his paintings. It felt akin to letting others see his diary--not that he kept a diary; that’s what the art was for.

“It’s fine if you don’t want me to see,” Draco added quickly, noticing Harry’s hesitation. “It took Goyle years to let me taste his baking.”

“No, you can look,” Harry said, pushing his sketchpad towards Draco. They were only Italy paintings, after all, and he felt, somehow, like he could trust Draco with his art. 

Still, he waited with bated breath as Draco flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable. Harry couldn’t explain why Draco’s approval was so important to him. 

“I’ll never admit this to anyone outside of our bed cabin, just so you know, but this is really good,” Draco said finally, and Harry felt his heart soarre. 

“Really? I mean, I know I’m not brilliant. It’s more therapy than anything, and-”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Potter. You’ve already get enough of that going on in your height.” 

“I’m an inch shorter than you!” Harry protested, but Draco shot him a smirk and ignored him.

“You can’t be good at everything, though you may think otherwise looking at me.”

“Try telling that to someone who hasn’t beaten you in every Quidditch game we’ve ever played,” Harry cut in, grinning. 

“ _But_ ,” Draco continued as though Harry had never spoken. “Even if you can’t draw faces or trees, you can evoke a lot of emotion with colours and patterns. This is clever work, Potter, and you know I wouldn’t sugarcoat it if I thought your art was shit.”

That was definitely true. 

Draco laid back on the bed, leaving the sketchbook on his chest. Harry didn’t dare grab it. 

“I always wondered what art medium I’d be good at,” he mused, shooting Harry a mild look. “They say there’s a medium out there for everyone, but I’ve yet to find mine.”

Harry laid back, too, feeling all too comfortable in Draco’s presence. “Have you tried photography? You can use my camera, if you’d like.”

Draco grinned at him, and Harry’s stomach fluttered as he eyed the sharp curve of Draco’s canines. 

“Nice to know you trust me with lasting memories of your holiday,” Draco said. “Sure hope you don’t regret it.”

Harry shook his head and smiled. “I have lots of regrets, but this won’t be one.”

**xXx**

“What do you mean you’ve never had pizza?” Harry cried, staring at Draco in shock. “You’re seriously telling me you can match food to the perfect wine, and have eaten caviar and escargot, but never pizza?”

Draco shrugged. “Pizza is a rather Muggle food item, and not a high class one, either.”

“Pansy only tried pizza for the first time when we started dating,” Ginny said, nudging her girlfriend playfully in the shoulder. “She didn’t even know what she’d been missing.”

“Muggles are pretty good at making food, I’ll give them that,” Pansy said. “And I asked Millicent to ask Granger where the best pizza shop in Naples was, and she said it was _L’Antica Pizzeria da Michele_.”

It looked like there’d be no arguing with Pansy over their restaurant choice for the night, but Harry wasn’t one to pass up the opportunity for pizza anyway. Lunches at his Muggle primary school had always been brighter when there was pizza on the menu. 

As had become custom, he fell into step beside Draco as Ginny and Pansy strode just ahead of them, Ginny guiding them by means of magically-self-directing map.

They’d arrived in Naples just that evening, and like Lecce, it was another beautiful city. It had the added bonus of having Mount Vesuvius watching proudly over it. They’d be going to the volcano in a couple of days time, and Harry was looking forward to the hike. What he wasn’t looking as forward to was getting all the historical pamphlets about Pompeii which Hermione had requested of him. 

The streets of Naples were narrow and crowded, and as a result Harry found his arm brushing against Draco’s as they pressed tightly together to avoid other tourists and the whizzing Vespa motorbikes which zoomed down the streets. 

“Have you ever had a burger?” Harry asked. 

Draco stared at Harry as if he’d grown two heads for a moment. “What?”

“If you haven’t had pizza before, have you ever had a burger? Or a hot dog?”

Draco shook his head. “You’ve met my parents. Do you really think they’d be providing me with Muggle food for dinner?”

“You have a point there,” Harry said with a grin. “When we get back to England, I’ll have to take you out for a McDonalds or something. They have them in Italy, too, I think, but I’m not going to pass up good Italian food while I’m here.”

“You mean you’d be willing to spend time with me when we’re not forced to, you mean?” Draco asked, and Harry could have sworn there was a hint of hope in Draco’s voice; he must have been mistaken. 

Harry flushed regardless. “I guess you’re growing on me. I haven’t wanted to jinx you for a good couple of days, at any rate.”

“Hmm,” Draco smirked. “The jury’s still out on you. Still, if I had to share my entire days and nights with any of Ginevra’s friends, I’m glad it’s you.”

**xXx**

“We’re not going to a cemetery, darling, and that’s final,” Pansy said, giving Draco a pointed look. “It’s far too grim, and think of the diseases!”

Ginny looked like she was on Draco’s side, but clearly wasn’t to fight with Pansy over it, so Draco turned to Harry instead.

“Well, Potter, will you join me?”

Visiting a cemetery was morbid, but Harry wasn’t exactly squeamish. 

“Sure,” he said, then grinned. “But you can come with me to the modern art museum afterwards.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but without malice. “Will you two ladies be joining us for the art museum, or do I have to watch Potter make eyes at paintings on my own?”

“Harry won’t be the only one making eyes at someone in the museum,” Ginny said, shooting Draco a sly look. “We’ll just catch up with you at the campervan later, so you boys have fun.”

“I really don’t know why they bothered to invite us,” Draco muttered as he watched Pansy and Ginny’s retreating backs. “I can’t say the same about you, but _I’m_ certainly delightful company.”

“I’m delightful company too.” Harry laughed. “Who else would be willing to accompany you to see a bunch of old bones?”

The bones, it turned out, were a lot more impressive than Harry expected them to be, although he’d never admit that to Draco. 

The Fontanelle Cemetery actually turned out to be a cave with different caverns, with skulls lined up in a respectful but dramatic display. Some skulls were perched on stacks of bones, while others were set up around altars or memorials. 

“This is pretty cool,” Harry admitted to Draco reluctantly. “Grim, but cool.”

“Isn’t it?” Draco agreed. His camera was almost permanently raised to his face, only moving when he needed to adjust something. He was taking his job as photographer more seriously than Harry would have guessed. 

“I suppose it reminds you of home,” Harry said, grinning. 

Draco shot him back a smirk. “What kind of manor would we have been if we _didn’t_ have skulls in every room?” 

“What about the peacocks? What were they for?”

“What?” Draco asked, momentarily distracted by the camera. “What do you mean, what were the peacocks for?”

“Your dad peacocks roaming your front garden, and not just any peacocks, but albino ones. That’s an unusual sight to see, even in old, posh manors with a history of evil deeds.” 

Draco shrugged. “Father likes peacocks. I never even questioned why he had so many; I was accustomed to them even as a small child. Did you know I’ve not been back to the manor since the war ended? There’s too many memories there. It’s stupid, isn’t it, not wanting to return to your childhood home.”

“I don’t want to return to my childhood home...not like it was ever much of a home anyway,” Harry said bitterly. “And you had Voldemort taint the home you grew up in; I imagine that’s not something that’s easy to forget.”

Draco smiled sadly. “No, it’s not. He’s the reason I like to come to cemeteries. He was so heartless and uncaring of his victims, even after their deaths, that I find the respect given to the buried almost heartwarming. It makes me almost unafraid of death. Thank you for coming here with me, Potter, I appreciate it. And I’m not repeating myself, so you can fuck off if you didn’t hear me and want me to say it again.”

Harry knocked his shoulder playfully into Draco’s. “I won’t force you to be nice again, don’t worry. And there’s no rush to go to the art museum. We can stay here as long as you like.”

**xXx**

Harry, Draco, and Ginny shared an amused look as they could hear Pansy’s grumbling getting closer.

They had gone for a hike up Mount Vesuvius, and Pansy--who was a self-declared exercise-phobe--had underestimated just how much work went into a walk up a volcano. Harry and Draco had bypassed Pansy by a small distance almost immediately, while Ginny, who was easily the fittest of all of them, had given up on her girlfriend and stormed ahead of them all. 

“Come on, babe,” Ginny called. “You’re almost there.”

Harry shook his head, lips curled into a slight smile, and turned to look over the safety barriers. They had reached the top, and while the vast crater was impressive in itself, Harry found himself much more drawn to the vibrant view below them. 

Lush green fields rolled into the gleaming white walls of Naples, and beyond that sat sparkling blue waters of the sea. Through their tour of Pompeii, they had learned that Mount Vesuvius was still an active volcano, even if it hadn’t erupted for nearly a century, and it was humbling to think of such a thriving city living in the shadows of something so dangerous. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Draco said, coming up behind Harry. “I like being this high, and looking at things below me. It reminds me of flying.”

Harry turned to Draco. “Do you fly much anymore?”

“Work gets in the way.” Draco shrugged. “To be honest, work gets in the way of absolutely everything.”

“Couldn’t you work less? I’m sure you can afford to hire an assistant or two to give you some time off.”

Draco’s lips quirked. “Time off work means more time I’m left alone with my thoughts. Although you’ve proven to be a pretty good distraction. Just as an example, currently I’m thinking about whether I could push you into the crater and get away with it.”

His words were dry, but Harry could tell it was a joke. He wondered if Draco had always just had a twisted sense of humour, and Harry had been unable to read it properly. 

“I doubt it,” Harry grinned. “The way most attempts on my life go, I’d probably survive to tell the tale.”

Draco grinned too. “That’s true. It’s a wonder the Dark Lord didn’t off himself out of frustration when it came to trying to murder you. Then again, is it even possible to drive someone so insane even further into insanity.”

“I don’t like to think of Voldemort as insane, more of a narcissistic, genocidal megalomaniac.” 

“Sounds like my Aunt Bellatrix, too,” Draco said, shuddering. “My Uncle Rodolphus might have been a sadistic killer, but I still pity him having to be married to her. I can scarcely believe she’s a blood-sister of my mother.”

“You should meet Andromeda sometime,” Harry said. “She looks almost the spitting image of Bellatrix, only without the murderous gleam in her eyes. She’s lovely, too; I bet she would love to have you over.”

Draco went tense beside Harry, and scuffed his hiking boots into the dust. “I don’t see why she’d want me in her house, given everything that happened with…”

The deaths of Andromeda’s husband and daughter went unmentioned. 

“That wasn’t anything to do with you,” Harry said firmly. “And I know Andromeda would love to connect with her remaining family. I mean, I know she’s not a fan of your father, but either you or your mum, I bet she’d love to see. Besides, think about it, you might be here one day and wiped up by a volcano the next. Life’s too short to waste time thinking about whether you should do something or not.”

Draco smirked, but it was weak. “We’re not all reckless fools like you, Potter. She has a grandson, doesn’t she?”

Harry nodded and reached for his wallet. He opened it, and allowed the long line of photos of Teddy to uncurl. “He’s my godson. He’s four now, named Edward but never call him that; he’s Teddy. He’s a Metamorphmagus but as he’s young he can’t control it yet, so usually his hair and eye colour will change at least ten times while you visit him.”

“He’s a cute kid,” Draco said. “You love him a lot.”

It wasn’t a question. Harry beamed. 

“He’s brilliant. I need to take him out when we get back home; maybe you could come with us.”

“I’d like that. Like you say, who knows when we might get wiped out by a volcano.”

**xXx**

Harry couldn’t sleep.

He and Draco had done surprisingly well sharing a bed. They had an unspoken agreement to sleep on their own respective edges of the bed, and hadn’t fought over blankets, or kicked each other in their sleep. 

Now, however, the moonlight illuminated Draco’s sleeping form, and Harry couldn’t stop staring at him. Draco’s white hair made him look like an angel, especially when it glimmered in the light of the moon. Even the tips of Draco’s eyelashes were white, and Harry found himself entranced by them. 

The sharp, pointed lines of Draco’s face didn’t seem so harsh while he was asleep. His lips, too, were captivating, and Harry felt a longing to capture them with his own. He imagined kissing Draco would taste of cedar, wine, and expensive cologne. 

Harry’s stomach fluttered at the thought of kissing Draco, and he wondered why he had accepted his attraction to Draco so easily. Draco had gone from his schoolyard rival, to a reluctant enemy, to a civil financial advisor, and now an excellent travel companion. If he and Draco had any hope of a romantic future together, they’d certainly taken the longest, most complicated path towards it. 

Draco’s eyes fluttered, and Harry hastily flopped onto his back so he wouldn’t be caught watching Draco. He closed his own eyes, and felt Draco shift beside him. 

“Never become an actor, Potter,” came Draco’s voice. “I know you’re awake.”

He opened his eyes, knowing there was no point continuing his ruse, and turned back onto his side. Draco was facing him, eyes piercing straight through him, and Harry swallowed heavily at the sight. 

“I can’t sleep; I’m too warm,” Harry lied. “I’ve been watching the stars.”

“Not a very good view of them through our window, is there?” Draco said with a small, wry smile. He shuffled closer to Harry, who felt the breath hitch in his throat. “Did you see anything good?”

“Ye-yes,” Harry stammered. “A dazzling constellation.”

Draco reached towards Harry and curled his fingers against Harry’s cheek. They both froze, gazes meeting. 

“Draco,” Harry breathed, not knowing if he dared ask him for more; for what he really wanted.

“Harry,” Draco said, and the use of Harry’s given name on Draco’s tongue sounded like the sweetest music to his ears. “I-”

They both jumped when the sound of blaring horns reached them. In the distance Harry could hear a car speeding by them with angry Italian shouts fading with it. 

“Fucking Italian drivers!” Ginny shouted below them. “This bloody thing’s doing the speed limit.”

Harry and Draco shared a look, and then broke into grins. 

“We should probably try and sleep now,” Draco said, pulling his fingers away and leaving Harry’s skin feeling cold. “We have a busy day coming up.”

“Yeah,” Harry said quietly. “Sweet dreams.”

**xXx**

Rome was an amazing city, full of history, culture, stunning architecture, and, most importantly, fucking _tourists_.

Harry hated them. He knew the irony, being a tourist himself, but the crowds and the queues at every tourist attraction they’d visited so far had been nothing like Harry had ever known before.

He was bad when it came to large groups of people as it was, and there was something about tourists that made them entitled and pushy, making the crowds even worse to be in. 

Draco didn’t seem to be having a brilliant time either, as he’d had a near permanent scowl etched onto his face the entire time they’d been in Rome. Harry swore he saw Draco hex a particularly arrogant man earlier, but Harry felt very much like the man had deserved it. 

“Three hours it’s taken us to get to this point,” Draco grumbled, stepping on Harry’s foot as someone attempted to barge past them. Personally, Harry didn’t know why they even bothered, seeing as they were all packed into the narrow corridor like a tin of sardines. 

“Thank you for staying with me,” Harry said. Ginny and Pansy had given up waiting two hours ago. “I really hope it’s worth it.”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Draco said. “The Sistine Chapel is famous, even in our world. I just didn’t realise it came with the temptation to do something worthy of Azkaban before we get inside.”

Harry grinned, but it quickly turned to a grimace as someone jostled him from behind. “If we both get sent to Azkaban at the same time, do you think we’ll get cells next to each other?”

“You’re the Boy Wonder, I’m sure you can make requests like that if you want,” Draco said. “Of course, without the Dementors there the other prisoners are also more likely to realise that you’re the Boy Wonder and cause trouble for you. I’ll be happy to offer my services as protector, though.”

Harry let out a bark of laughter. “I know exactly what the price is for enlisting someone as prison protector.”

“That isn’t quite a rejection of my offer,” Draco pointed out, raising his eyebrows teasingly. 

Harry felt his face flush, knowing all too well that he’d willingly pay the price without even wanting anything in return. “We’d need something to pass the time and make prison more enjoyable.” 

“Same could be said for other things too, not just prison,” Draco said. “University, for example, or holidays. Oh, we’re being allowed in.”

“What?!” Harry cried at Draco’s holiday comment, but Draco was too busy ushering him forwards to answer him. 

When they finally entered the Sistine Chapel, Harry felt all his irritation at pushy tourists melt away at once. 

It was absolutely stunning, the colours of the artwork vibrant and beautiful. Harry cast his gaze towards the ceiling, and felt small, unimportant, and blessed all at once. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, and felt so serene looking up at the art.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry said in awe. 

“Yes, it is,” Draco said, his voice stilted. 

Harry looked towards him, surprised to see Draco’s eyes trained on him, Draco’s cheeks turned pink, and he cast his gaze up to the ceiling. 

Draco looked back down, only to see Harry still staring at him. “Don’t miss out, Potter.”

Harry smiled, and cast his gaze back to the ceiling again. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not.”

**xXx**

When they pulled up in the small village of Levane, Harry was pleased. They’d just spent two full days walking around Siena and Florence, and were on their way to Milan next.

Before they reached their next city destination, the four of them agreed it would be nice to have a quieter, more relaxed day, and Levane seemed to be the perfect place for that.

It was a quaint place, with narrow streets and terracotta buildings. It was untouched by tourists, and existed as a pretty village nestled amongst green hills where people lived their day-to-day lives. Harry envied them. 

“Do you want to go for a walk into the country?” Draco asked, fanning his face idly with a Spanish fan. 

Harry nodded. Ginny and Pansy had gone off to do their own thing, as usual, and he and Draco had already been sat in comfortable silence, drinking rich coffee, for a while. 

The sun was unrelenting, the air hot and sticky with humidity. They were barely walking for a couple of minutes before they were both sweating, and made a mutual decision to sit beneath a large tree. The grass was warm beneath Harry’s skin, and he skimmed his fingers through it. 

“What I’d give for a villa with a swimming pool right now,” Harry muttered. “If it wasn’t so damn lovely here, I’d charm the campervan into an igloo and go and sit in there.”

“I like hot weather more than the cold, believe it or not,” Draco said. “Winters at Hogwarts were murder for me.”

“The Slytherin common room was chilly anyway. It was much cosier in Gryffindor tower.”

Draco stopped walking abruptly, and Harry almost tripped over his own feet to stop from colliding with him. 

“How would you know what the Slytherin common room felt like?” Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

Harry felt his face flush, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, me and Ron snuck in when we were in second year. We thought you were the Heir to Slytherin, and wanted to confirm it.”

Draco stared at him, and then let out a short bark of laughter. “I’m honoured you would consider me to the heir of the great Slytherin. How did you get in?”

“We Polyjuiced into Crabbe and Goyle.” Harry shrugged as though it were no big deal. 

“You’re not having me on, are you?” Draco said, and Harry shook his head. “Your antics really should be made into a book or something. It’s a wonder you managed not to get expelled.”

“I was, for a few days at any rate,” Harry said. “Though that was because of Umbridge’s general hatred of me. Did you know she did me as much lasting damage as Voldemort did?”

He waved the back of his hand towards Draco, showing him the _I must not tell lies_ scar that was still etched onto his skin. 

Draco took Harry’s hand carefully, as though it were made of glass, and studied the scar carefully. His eyes flashed dangerously, but his expression softened as he looked back at Harry. 

Their eyes met, and Harry felt his breath hitch in his throat at the intense look Draco was giving him. 

“Tell me a lie,” Draco said, his words barely more than a whisper. “Tell me a lie about me.”

Harry swallowed heavily. Draco’s fingers were still wrapped around Harry’s hand, their weight warm and comforting, and neither of them seemed in a hurry to pull apart. 

“I really don’t want to kiss you right now,” Harry said, as quietly as Draco had done. 

“Me neither,” Draco said, before he leaned in and kissed Harry softly. 

Their fingers joined together as they kissed. Draco’s lips were sweeter than Harry had imagined, and rougher too, but it was infinitely better than in any of his fantasies. 

More importantly, he never wanted it to end.

**xXx**

By the time they reached Milan, Harry was feeling exceedingly happy.

It was mostly because he and Draco had taken any and every opportunity to make out, like they were randy teenagers again. 

His good mood was probably also because Pansy had also treated them to a trip to a spa in the Spanish Walls of Milan. Harry had come out feeling more refreshed and peaceful than he had ever done in his life, and questioned why he’d never gone to a spa before. 

Currently he was sat with Ginny, who kept shooting him amused and smug looks. Pansy and Draco had gone to some high-end fashion shops, which Ginny and Harry had precisely zero interest in between them. It was nice to spend time with just Ginny, though, even if she kept giving him those strange looks. 

“What?” Harry snapped, finally fed up of not knowing what Ginny was up to. 

“Nice love bite you have there,” Ginny said with a grin, and Harry slapped his hand to his neck in alarm. 

“I, uh-” he began to protest, but Ginny waved her hands to cut him off, unable to tell him directly as she was laughing too hard. 

“You don’t have a love bite,” she finally managed to say. “I just wanted to see how you’d react. So you and Draco have become a thing, at last, have you?”

Harry glared at her, but he was in too much of a good mood to put much venom into it. 

“Yes, we’re together now. I think.” Harry frowned. “We’ve never spoken about what’s going to happen after we get back to England.”

“Malfoy’s been sweet on you for years, Pansy says,” Ginny said. “Or maybe sweet is the wrong word, in Malfoy’s case. That boy doesn’t do sweet.”

“You’d be surprised,” Harry muttered under his breath. “Don’t tell him that I told you that he has a nice side.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ginny pretended to pout. “But really, Harry, I’m sure you two have a future outside of Italy. Malfoy is a workaholic, but I’m sure you’d be able to tear him away from that office of his. And it will give you an opportunity to get out of the house, too! That’s what Pansy and I wanted for you both.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You wanted us happy, or you wanted us together?”

“Both,” Ginny said without shame. “As I said, Pansy knows that Draco’s been smitten with you for a long time, and you were always far too interested in his coming and goings than schoolboy rivals should be. Besides, the two of you make a cute couple. _And_ I want to see Ron’s reaction that his other best friend is _also_ dating a Slytherin, along with his sister.” 

Harry grinned. “Lavender will be happy to hold him while he weeps, I’m sure. Thanks, though, Gin, for thinking of me. I don’t especially like your underhanded Slytherin tactics, but it was nice of you anyway.”

“Just you wait until you’ve been dating your Slytherin a while; they start to rub off on you. No pun intended.”

**xXx**

Harry wondered, idly, if he was dead and was currently in a wonderful afterlife.

Venice had been their final stop on their road trip, and the city had been, like all the others, beautiful, but the many canals and waterways made it stand out above the others. It was scenic both in nature and architecture, and of all the places they’d seen, Harry could envision himself living in Venice above the others.

He sat beside Draco in a gondola, their thighs pressed closely together. Draco’s hand was over Harry’s knee, and Harry rested his palm atop of it. No words were spoken between them, because they didn’t need to be. 

The water splashed gently against their boat, making soothing music. The setting sun cast a fiery orange glow across the canal, Draco, and the buildings around them, bathing them in warm light. 

Harry could scarcely believe that this was real, but it was, and he felt like the luckiest man in the world. Through his entire time in Italy, Harry had felt a sense of completion and serenity that he’d never been able to achieve at home. His sketchbook, too, had become brighter since he’d come abroad. 

Draco had only added to Harry’s happiness, and every time he thought about returning home a horrid jolt would shoot through his stomach. Despite Ginny’s insistence that Draco was definitely interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with Harry, he still held fear that once he got back to England he’d simply slide back into his lonely life of depression once more. 

“Don’t look so sad, Potter,” Draco murmured softly beside him. 

“I just don’t want this to end,” Harry admitted, just as quietly. 

“This moment might end, but the feelings it created don’t have to,” Draco said. “And if you’re willing to give up so easily, you’re not the Harry Potter I thought you were.”

**xXx**

“Potter.”

Harry jumped violently at the sound of his name, accidentally creating a large spot of yellow on his canvas. 

“I really need a bell above my door,” he muttered, turning to face Draco who was leaning idly in the doorway. “I didn’t think you wanted to see my anymore.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “We’ve only been home three days, and I’ve been busy. I quit my job, partly because the thought of going back was horrific, but mostly because I’ve grown quite accustomed to spending most of my time with you and wish to continue that.”

Harry blinked, though his heart soared in his chest. “You quit your job? For me?”

“Don’t be arrogant, Potter,” Draco said, but it was without malice. “I quit for _me_. There’s little sense in staying miserable when I don’t have to be. I’m rich enough that I don’t have to worry about working for the rest of my life, and I’d rather do things that make me happy then bury my feelings in work. Are these your most recent paintings? They look cheerful.”

Harry smiled. “Italy inspired me. It turns out I can paint just as well when I’m happy as when I’m depressed.” 

“You should see where else inspires you. Spain, Norway, Romania, perhaps. We could go anywhere. In fact, I think we should go travelling, you and I?”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat again. “You want to travel with me again?”

“Merlin, you’re dense,” Draco said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I like you very much, and my affections run deep for you. Please don’t make me say it again.”

Harry grinned. “Such a romantic at heart, aren’t you?”

Draco ignored him. “I thought you could paint on the go, and I could do more photography because I rather enjoyed that. I need to develop the photos I took in Italy still, and I thought you could perhaps help me with that. We could get a campervan of our own, stack it out with good wine, then we have all we need.”

“I like the idea of that a lot,” Harry said, stepping towards Draco to pull him into a kiss. “Where should we go first?”

“Anywhere you want,” Draco said. His pupils were blown wide as he looked at Harry intensely. “The world is ours.”

**Epilogue**

Harry swung on the door to their campervan, allowing himself to bask in the warm sun for a moment.

Draco slapped his arse. “Get a move on, Potter.”

Harry looked back at Draco and grinned, before hopping down onto the gravel road. 

Olives trees stretched back as far as the eye could see, vibrant green against the dusky orange ground. 

Draco stepped behind him, wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, and rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder. 

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Draco murmured, placing a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “The Greeks have the best olives in the world, they say.”

“I don’t know about Greek wine, but they make good ouzo, too. I got us a bottle when we stopped at that store.”

“You spoil me, Potter. I’m glad I’m getting to tour the world with you.”

Harry turned in Draco’s arm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he smiled, before pressing his lips to Draco’s in a sweet kiss.

Harry didn’t need anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [H/D Tropes Exchange Fest 2019,]() posting August & September 2019! Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it!"


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